Words to Stones
by RedKetchup
Summary: It's the profession, watching from the sidelines like it's normal for worlds to fall apart. Maybe in this life it is.


Excuse the grammar, I'm a savage when it comes to that.

For senseiihaveaquestion and Strix4.

* * *

She chips, breaks down like a dulling knife.

It makes his heart crawl, and he could ignore it if he wanted, which he does, because he's afraid of what he'll find if he bothers to reach inside and stop the twinging. But it worsens, because when she cries it's few and in-between but like a flooding river.

"You _love_ her," Orochimaru hissed once, voice inflicted with nothing but that creepy, dead-inside amusement.

"Who can't love a babe like her?" He grinned, hefted his cup in the air with a _kampai!_

God, he's an asshole.

She's not some invincible thing that can always spit at his perverted leers and punch holes through enemies. He's acting like he doesn't see it, because she'd never take it too far. She can't. She's _Tsunade_ for god's sake.

But suicide and missing-nins are becoming more frequent. Deserters in both ways, if you think about it like a pessimist. Think like a ninja and it's a damn shame. Just another reason to hate the profession.

The other day a neighbor of his took his own life.

Stood on a chair.

Wore a noose like a scarf.

And he stepped down like he was walking away.

Minato went with him to the funeral, shifted uncomfortably through the whole thing. Jiraiya told him he could go, run off and do something kids do.

"Don't worry about all this depressing stuff. You're still young, go have fun."

Minato could have said anything, but instead he went with, "You're calling yourself old, sensei."

Damn that kid. He loves him to death.

So yeah, seppuku and running with your weight on your back. Too much of it, but condoned in some ways. After all, the war front is coming closer.

Tsunade has been better, though. She's got that princely guy, what's-his-face. David or Danku or something.

"_Dan_, Jiraiya," she insisted through gritted teeth. "You're forgetting his name on purpose."

Well. Yeah. Dan is a nice guy, but he's got a head full of dreams. Only fools got dreams like his.

Jiraiya would know, he's the poster child of fools.

He kinda wishes Dan'd piss off, though. He's not jealous or anything, because c'mon, him and Tsunade never had a chance to begin with, but Jiraiya knows Tsunade better than anyone else. She's the girl who's piss-poor at gambling, great at drinking, and amazing at finding the best dumpling shops in any town. The flat-chested kid that punched him through three trees on the day he asked her to the Fireworks Festival. The big sister that kissed a little boy's forehead despite the blush on his face.

Shit, he's a little jealous, and he knows he's just bitter that someone else could dry her tears when he pretends everything is fine.

Because on the day they found the little boy's corpse she wept, kissed his forehead one last time, and Jiraiya let her keep the blood on her lips for as long as she wanted.

She took the necklace before she left, and Jiraiya didn't say anything.

* * *

"You got it easy with that red-headed brat. Y'know, that girl you're in love with."

"Kushina? I'm not in love with Kushina."

Jiraiya scoffs, shifts the binoculars a bit. "Yeah? And I'm not a pervert."

Minato scrunches his brow as he scrutinizes some scroll that is way too high of a level for his age group. Knowing him he'll probably have it perfected in ten minutes. Jiraiya doesn't even know where he keeps getting those things. He suspects the old Third.

"You're a complete pervert."

"And you're in love with the Uzumaki kid. Remember that incident with the Cloud? A certain someone gallantly arriving like some ninja-prince?"

"I really hope people aren't spreading the story like that. Kushina would kill me."

"Eh, maybe you don't got it as easy then. Women are just delicate yet vicious creatures that torment the 'lesser' sex."

Minato manages to spark something in his chakra. "You don't make sense, sensei.'"

"Be careful with that, watch what you're doing with your chakra. Tone it down a bit."

"Yes, sensei."

But really, what was it with these women? Sure, Jiraiya's never been the greatest of men, what with the peeping and the drinking and the spontaneous disappearances that may or may not always be intentional, but he's never actually been _too_ bad.

Minato hums under his breath. "You know she's going to kill you if you get caught. Squash you like a bug."

"Minato!" Jiraiya scolds, injured. "You have so little respect for your sensei."

Blue eyes dart up briefly, just to make sure his sensei is kidding. "Tsunade told me that the next time she sees you looking at the girls' bath she'll punch all your organs out. Like a pinata."

Jiraiya's grin slips, unsure whether to actually take that as a real threat or not. "Well, some risks are worth it."

"Really."

He makes a noncommittal noise in answer, waving his hand in a not-really-but-you-know-your-sensei type of way.

"Dan-san said that peeking was tasteless."

Jiraiya perks up. "Did he now? He say anything else?"

Minato isn't really paying attention. "Just that if he wanted to see a woman like that so badly he'd just wait until the woman wanted to see him, too."

_Of course he did. Dan the man._

Minato looks at him from the corner of his eye, mouth twitching. "You're jealous."

"Of what? She's happy, isn't she? As long as Dan doesn't pull a fast one on her I don't care. Besides, there are milder, gentler ways to go." Jiraiya's words got truth in them, and a little bit defeat.

"You just want a woman that won't punch your face in when she catches you being a pervert."

"Minato!"

* * *

It's sick, really, how things come back full circle.

It's all a blur of hard times, like stones being thrown at you, and no matter how much you cover your face they keep managing to cut the skin.

And it's gotten hard to tell the difference between the boulders and stones.

"Jiraiya-sama? Is there something I can help you with?" She's small and petite, voice like soft wind.

He can't remember her name, something sweet like her. Hell. He can't even tell what he's supposed to ask for. Distracted by her blonde hair, keeps picturing it bloodied and matted like the ninja the medics are wheeling in.

Medics.

"Tsunade," he says.

Sweetheart's expression falls, crumbles like wet paper. Another stone against the face.

"Jiraiya-sama, I don't think now is a good-"

"Give me a room number. I'm her teammate."

"Sir, it's not-"

"Please," he pleads.

Not even Sweetheart can deny him after that. "..Third floor, room 317."

_Thanks_, he wants to say. _Don't go out in the field for awhile, _he doesn't say. _The war will end soon. It'll all stop_.

Like he said, the poster child for fools.

The third floor has death lingering in the air. Jiraiya smells it, can tell it has been there awhile.

He almost panics when he opens the door and sees a body on the table, white cloth over the eyes. Except it's not Tsunade.

It's Dan.

Tsunade's in the corner, hands shaking and face wet with those damn tears. She tilts her head upwards to look at him, and hell if it doesn't scare him. Her face is staunch-white and streaked with red. Looks crazed and empty, not like Tsunade. He can tell she doesn't recognize him.

That's a boulder.

Trembling, she unfolds her hands and brings them to her face. Red drips."The blood won't stop."

Jiraiya kneels beside her, pulls her hands close. The blood isn't her's. Thank god. The necklace is there, though, dark and solemn. Dan had been wearing it for the past few weeks.

There are no words for her, none that can be said to make this right. Some come to mind, but they sit in his throat and make themselves uncomfortable. They sit cross-legged, rock back and forth.

The war won't end because she's crying and he's holding her hands. People won't stop dying because one good man did. It's all a part of the profession.

_Dammit, Dan. You weren't supposed to pull a fast one_.

She's crying again.

* * *

If there's one good thing, it's the fact that no one can find Orochimaru.

Just because it's good doesn't mean it's happy. Jiraiya's got a tight knot of anger and _hurt_ when he thinks of Orochimaru, but at least he's gone off before Tsunade got her wits back together.

Otherwise, she would have asked him for the impossible.

And knowing Orochimaru, he would have given it at a high price.

Tsunade must have realized the same thing, because she's been poking around his abandoned labs, eyes empty and dark. She does it on her aimless walks, when people won't bother her.

Jiraiya sometimes goes with her, but it doesn't matter much. He's like a ghost to her.

He mostly does it to keep her company, but he also keeps the messengers away. Medic-nin are needed on the front line, and Tsunade's the best medic Konoha has seen in years.

At least, she was. She refuses to do it nowadays. Hence all the growling at the summons. It works for now, but soon the Third is going to have to call the shots. Tsunade can go back to the war or be deemed unfit for duty.

They both know which one he'll choose.

"Jiraiya, I want to go alone today," she tells him when he sidles up beside her on Tuesday.

Her voice is even and solid, and he doesn't like seeing how the weight of Dan's death falls from her and slaps the ground. She picks it up, smoothes it back on her shoulders like she wants to carry it forever.

"Sure. Whatever you need."

She needs to leave, and he wants to ignore it.

* * *

She takes an apprentice with her. Shizune. Nice girl if he remembers right.

Anyway, it doesn't really matter. He knows he's been ignoring the shit, all the stones and boulders, but hell, Tsunade never needed him anyway. Maybe one day, but not now, maybe not ever.

They're still a team. A screwed up one, but that's the world talking.

He thinks he'll start working on that book. Go off and figure out some stuff about something a frog once told him. Help people along the way, learn new stuff, meet new people. New women.

Minato's growing so quick, too, him and those other squirts, although they're not squirts anymore. They'll be surpassing Jiraiya in no time. It's a little unsettling, letting them head off into the world like it is, but it's how life works.

"I felt the same," a voice with years of smoke on the tongue says, old and tired.

Jiraiya turns, suddenly feeling young and caught doing something bad. "Sensei."

Hiruzen smiles, settles against the other side of the tree that Jiraiya's leaning against. Some kids are sparring on the training grounds, their shouts filling the air.

"I wish I had spent more time with you three, especially as you grew older. But you weren't the children who needed a sensei anymore." Sensei breathes in on his pipe, brings the embers back to life.

Jiraiya doesn't want to hear any confessions. Not now. "I sometimes feel like I still need a sensei."

Hiruzen sends over a quirky smirk. "Getting sentimental, Jiraiya? How unlike you."

"Yeah, yeah. Can it, old man."

One of the kids lands a blow on another's nose. There's a cry and suddenly it's all still. All of them coming to a stop like clockwork. Stuff like that is how you get a kunai through the throat on the battlefield.

He feels sick thinking that. It's a training exercise for god's sake. He's not strict like Sakumo.

Sensei straightens himself out with a sigh, back cracking. "I should handle that. Looks real nasty from here. Before I go, however, I want to know, were you ever going to tell me you were leaving?"

He's still left baffled as to how Sensei always manages that all-seeing stuff. It's like he's got a crystal ball or something.

"I was going to wait until the time was right."

Sounds like bullshit.

Hiruzen laughs like it is. "When is the time ever right?"

"Guess you got a point."

Sensei walks off, puffing his pipe and waving his hand in goodbye. "Oh, and Jiraiya?"

"You better not be telling me to stop my recreational hobbies."

"Heh, no." He breathes the smoke out and it swirls lazily. "I loved you three. Loved you like this village. It's hard to see where I've failed."

Stones. Boulders. Words. All sucker-punches.


End file.
